


Preserving Hearts

by NamelesslyNightlock, Rabentochter



Series: Veni, Vedi, Witcher [4]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - The Witcher Fusion, BAMF Loki (Marvel), Blacksmith Tony Stark, Caught, Desperation, Established Relationship, FFF, Fear, Feels, Fighting, Fluff, Fluffy Ending, Frostiron Bingo Round 1, Happy Ending, Horror, Hugs, Kissing, Knives, Loki (Marvel) Feels, Loki (Marvel) Gets a Hug, Loki (Marvel) Needs a Hug, M/M, Monsters, Protective Loki (Marvel), Protective Tony Stark, Relief, Rescue, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Is Not Helping, Vampires, Violence, Witcher Loki (Marvel), Worried Tony Stark, loki to the rescue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-22
Updated: 2020-03-22
Packaged: 2021-02-28 21:01:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,464
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23253637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NamelesslyNightlock/pseuds/NamelesslyNightlock, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rabentochter/pseuds/Rabentochter
Summary: Tony knows that there is no way his Witcher can survive the legion of vampires he has been contracted to kill- and Tony might only be a blacksmith, but he has to dosomething.
Relationships: Loki/Tony Stark
Series: Veni, Vedi, Witcher [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1588387
Comments: 26
Kudos: 281





	Preserving Hearts

**Author's Note:**

> We're on our Witcher madness again 👌  
>   
> Fill for the Frostiron Bingo from Rabentochter: B3 - Dark Fantasy (genre).  
>   
> Art by **Rabentochter** , fic by **NamelesslyNightlock.**

Now, look. No matter what anyone says, Tony actually _isn’t_ the kind of person who likes to go looking for trouble. _Stories_ of trouble, sure– he loved hearing tales of knights who fought the creatures in the woods, of _Witchers_ who slayed monsters with blades of silver.

But he didn’t go looking for trouble _himself_. It wasn’t his job to fight the monsters– it was his job to provide the necessary tools to those who _did_. He’d far rather spend his time at his forge than out in the woods, than _being attacked by monsters in an ancient castle—_

Ahem.

Okay, so he knew it had been stupid to come here. He _knew_ the risks, but… when he’d heard that one of the farmers who used the old castle grounds to graze his livestock had hired a Witcher to kill the monsters that lived within the castle walls… he couldn’t just _stay away._

Because… Tony heard the men discussing it. He knew they had told the Witcher that there was only the one creature, both so that the chance of him refusing the job had diminished _and_ so that they could charge him less. And… for one other, far more sinister reason.

Tony had been in the tavern when the farmer had run in, excitedly spreading the news that they would soon be rid of their… ah, _pest_ problem– and that if not entirely, then at least their numbers would no doubt be decreased a little before the Witcher fell.

Which would, in their minds, rid them of yet one more troublesome blight.

It was that last comment that had Tony springing to his feet and running for the door, leaving his half-finished pint on the bar. Several of the patrons glanced up as he moved – as the only blacksmith in the town, he was rather well known after all – and one even had the audacity to grip his arm just as he reached the exit.

“Hey, where are you going? Stay and celebrate with us!”

“I’m going to tell the Witcher the truth,” Tony spat. “I’m going to _save his life._ You’re all despicable.”

Then he shouldered past them and pushed out of the door, not even ducking back to his house for a better weapon than the small knife in his belt before running out of town and down the overgrown road toward the castle ruins.

He pushed himself as hard as he could, not wanting to risk being even a second too late. His legs were screaming and he was short of breath before he’d even made it half way but he forced himself on, the image of his Witcher in his mind more than enough to push him past the pain.

He and Loki had been together for several years now, ever since the Witcher had shown up at his door in the dead of the night demanding that Tony make him a silver blade to replace the one that Loki had lost. They’d bonded quickly over the following days, and when Loki had left to kill his monster, Tony had felt like a part of himself had gone with him—

But then, Loki had come back– and he kept on _coming back._ No matter how far his travels took him, or how long he was gone, Tony knew that Loki would always come back to him.

Tony liked to think that his forge was Loki’s home– but he _knew_ that they held each other’s hearts.

Which was why Tony was so frantic, so desperate to get to the castle. He couldn’t just– if something happened to Loki– Tony _wouldn’t_ —

He reached the castle in under an hour, even on foot– the sun was still hovering above the horizon. And the run-down walls, even crumbling as they were, seemed to tower over him as he gingerly slipped through the gates, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck prickle.

Maybe he should have noted the signs– or rather, the lack of them. He should have noted that Fax wasn’t tied up outside, because he _knew_ that Loki never went anywhere without his trusted horse. He should have noted that the near-rotten door he got through with use of his small knife was still _locked_ , he should have thought about the fact that if Loki was already inside… well, then he was already too late.

But, to be honest, he wasn’t really thinking at all. There was only the one thing on his mind, and that was the need to get inside as quickly as he could, the _need_ to warn Loki before he was ambushed by an entire coven of ravenous monsters—

And then, with no warning at all—

 _He_ was the one who ended up getting ambushed.

The creatures exploded out of nowhere, seeming to leap from the shadows with no prior indication of their presence other than that sickening sensation of being watched.

A cold, clammy hand closed over Tony’s mouth, preventing him from screaming– and more tore at his clothes, tugged at his arms, scratched over his skin. Tony’s eyes were wide and bulging as he tried to pull himself free, but it was no use. The monsters were far stronger than him, and there were just so _many._

They wrestled him down a hallway, up a set of stairs and into what appeared to be a disused bedroom. The bed itself was almost entirely destroyed, the wood rotten and the hangings little more than dust– but the floor was still solid when the creatures threw Tony upon it, and one of the chairs was still sturdy enough that they could bind him to it without risk of Tony being able to get away.

That left Tony staring up at his captors, taking in their corpse-pale faces, their rotting skin, their dark, sunken eyes, and the sharp fangs that seemed to gleam red in the dim light that filtered through the grimy window.

Tony already knew what they were– he _had_ been perfectly aware of what he was walking into, even if he had tried not to think about it. But… knowing was hardly the same thing as seeing a dozen of them leaning over him, their fingers curled to claws, their movements animalistic as they pushed each other to try and be the one closest to Tony, as if they were fighting over a meal.

And… because he knew what they were, Tony also knew how horrifyingly likely that prospect was.

_Vampires._

They were fairly rare on the continent– Witchers had hunted them down to near extinction, but they’d slowly built back their numbers as the Witchers’ own had dwindled. Not that it mattered how rare they were– there was certainly enough of them currently salivating over Tony.

Tony’s heels slid over the floor as he tried to push himself backward, but he couldn’t get enough purchase to move the heavy chair– and he was left leaning back as the vampires squabbled, hissing and snarling, some even near _crooning_ as they struggled closer– though they were clearly _trying_ to hold back, as if they were waiting for something.

_Fuck._

Tony really hadn’t planned to spend his evening becoming a monster’s lunch—

And to make matters worse, he hadn’t even been able to warn Loki. Tony was going to die here, and it all will have been completely and utterly for _nothing_.

No.

_No—_

Tony wasn’t going to let that happen. He might not have brought anything more than his small knife and he might not be a fighter, but he sure as hell was not just going to sit and wait for Loki to come to his death.

“So,” he started, twisting his hands in the ropes, half of his mind trying to run the probability of him being able to get hold of his knife. “You guys have got some pretty nice digs here. Uh, so long as we ignore the rats.”

The sound of Tony’s voice seemed to urge the vampires on, riling them up with sharp hisses and bared fangs. Tony swallowed down his fear—

Which was _possibly_ not the best move he could have made, since the creatures’ eyes darted unanimously down to his throat—

“You do realise that you’ve attracted a lot of attention, right?” Tony asked. “I’m not the one who was sent to get _rid_ of you all. Oh no. Loki of _Asgard_ is coming for you,” Tony spat, forcing an ugly grin over his face. “He’s a _Witcher_ , and he’s killed more monsters than any other on the continent.”

Tony didn’t know for sure whether that was the truth, but he believed it enough to be able to spit it out with a ring of confidence.

“He’s going to come, and when he does… he will send you all to the deepest pits of fiery hell.”

On Tony’s last few words, the hissing petered away– and for a moment, Tony wondered if – impossibly – his words had some kind of effect. But then—

The vampires seemed to part, shoving against each other not to get closer to Tony but to make space as a vampire he hadn’t yet seen pushed its way to the front. It was slightly taller than the others, and slightly less rotten, as if it always received the lion’s share of blood– and sure enough, as it approached with bared fangs, the others approached with it.

 _This_ vampire was what the others were waiting for, and now that it was here…

The vampires were so close now Tony could _feel_ the warmth being leeched from the air, could smell their rotten stench. He leaned back but the chair he was lashed to prevented it, and there was nothing he could do, nowhere he could go—

Then the room _exploded_ with the sound of shattering glass, and then the air split with the screech of pained screams. The vampires _scattered_ , running to the edges of the room as the bright light of the setting sun poured in through the now broken window.

With the vampires gone Tony had a perfect line of sight– and there, silhouetted against that burning orange light, was—

“ _Loki.”_

Tony couldn’t properly see his face, shadowed as it was– but he could see the way his hands were tight around the hilts of his twin silver daggers, the way his shoulders were tensed with rage– and the way his green eyes were almost _glowing_ through the darkness.

Loki appraised Tony for a second– but only a _second_ before he was ducking to the side, dodging a vampire that recklessly threw itself at the Witcher with a horrible cry. Loki’s dodge meant that the vampire was in full sunlight, and its skin smoked and burned as it screamed—

And then Loki put the thing out of its misery, a silver blade slicing across its throat and cutting its head clean off.

The vampires all hissed as they strayed along the edge of the sunlight, bending forward in preparation for a fight. Loki waited, for a moment, breathing slow and blades at the ready.

A different warrior – or Tony – might have taken the time to throw out a taunt, but not Loki. He stood stoic and unmoving save the slight shift of his fingers on the hilts of his knives, just… _waiting._

Then the vampire that had almost started feeding on Tony let out an ungodly wail—

And then– god, _then_ Loki _moved._

He looked like he was dancing, his feet moving so swiftly as he weaved and stepped and turned. He spun between the vampires as his blades flashed red in the light of the setting sun.

Loki was sorely outnumbered, just as Tony knew that he would be, but the stream of sunlight gave Loki the advantage. He would step into the darkness to strike, to draw them in– and then he would dance back again, either to take the chance to find a new opening or to try and draw them further into the light.

Thankfully, the creatures were not intelligent beings– not one went for Tony while he wasn’t a threat, not one of them thinking to use him as a hostage. So Tony was free to try and tug at his bindings, the rough ropes scraping over his skin, pulling at his hands. He almost bit his tongue as he tried to force his hand through the too-tight loop– but, _thankfully,_ the memories the vampires had of tying knots from before their reanimated corpses had joined the ranks of darkness were not great, and Tony managed to pull free without dislocating his thumb.

Still, his hands were more than sore, and as he pushed the rest of the ropes away, he rubbed at his injured wrists with his fingers—

Another screech from a vampire made him jump, and his nail scratched along an already raw patch of skin, drawing just the _tiniest_ drop of blood—

But a single drop was enough.

The vampires turned as one, every eye staring at Tony’s wrist, every mouth opening in ravenous hunger.

Tony winced. “Oops.”

As if once again his voice was enough to set them all off, the vampires began forward, almost ambling at first before they started to _charge—_

And Tony… stood firm. He took his own weapon into his hand, he grit his teeth—

Then, Loki _snarled._ He attacked the vampires from behind, slashing with unrelenting violence, cutting down creature after creature with barely any resistance, despite the fact that the fight had been fierce only moments before. But the vampires were distracted now, every one of them looking in the same direction, all of them fighting with _each other_ in their desperate struggle to get to _Tony—_

Which meant that Loki could fight with abandon.

But with Tony a target Loki’s movements were even more bloodthirsty than before, fighting to get to him before Tony ran out of time. And to make matters worse the sun was almost down, the room very nearly cast into total darkness. There would be no help from the light now, and despite all those creatures he had already slain, Loki was _still_ outnumbered five to one.

Well…

Five to _two._

In the face of all that, Tony’s knife felt incredibly small in his palm. 

It was only made of iron, and it did nothing but wobble slightly as the vampires grew ever closer, their rasping hisses and snapping teeth sending more than just a shiver down Tony’s spine. They were getting closer, closer—

And as Loki struggled with two creatures – putting Tony’s heart in his mouth for another reason entirely – the largest vampire was free to come forward, finally unhindered. Up close its eyes seemed almost solid black, the stench of iron turning Tony’s stomach. He felt utterly sick knowing that his own life’s blood, hurried by the rapid beat of his pounding heart would soon add to the dry stain smeared over the creature’s rotting lips—

But then there was a flash of silver straight through the vampire’s throat, and the creature fell to the ground– dead.

 _Properly_.

“Anthony,” Loki said, his voice damn near a gasp, and sounding more than half strangled– but still somehow managing to hold that special kind of irritation that only Loki ever seemed to be able to conjure. “ _What_ in Stygga’s name were you _thinking?”_

“Oh,” Tony said, shoving his knife back into his belt and shrugging his shoulders. “I was just out for an evening stroll, you know? Thought the sunset looked nice over the parapets—”

Tony’s words cut into a pained groan as Loki’s fist found his shoulder– but then it was his turn to gasp as Loki suddenly engulfed him in a hug. Tony might have made another quip, because yeah he was shaken but hey it was his defence mechanism– but then he realised that Loki was _beyond_ shaken. He was shak _ing,_ his hands trembling as he clutched Tony closer, his breath coming too quick as he buried his face into Tony’s shoulder. And, sure, that could have been from the exertion. But Tony had seen Loki tired before.

He hadn’t ever seen him quite like this.

“Hey, Loki, it’s okay,” Tony said, pulling back slightly. It felt like Loki didn’t want to let him go, but the moment of tension lasted only half a second. Then Tony was cupping Loki’s pale white cheeks between his hands, and staring into those too-bright green eyes. “ _I’m_ okay.”

Loki surged forward then, and Tony gasped into the kiss, which felt almost as violent and desperate as the fight had been. Tony’s back hit the wall in a couple of stumbled steps backward, the force of it aching his already battered body but– Loki’s hands were more than _gentle._ It was like he was trying to hold Tony as tightly as could, like he was afraid Tony was going to disappear– yet also afraid that he might shatter as easily as the window had.

Feeling that it was terror driving the passion, Tony kissed him back– giving Loki what he needed, but only until the other man paused to take a breath.

Then he tilted up his chin, and smoothed his thumbs over Loki’s cheeks.

“Lokes, I’m safe. I’m _safe._ Look at me, you saved me, the vampires are all dead—”

“I almost didn’t,” Loki gasped. “I almost– had I not noticed that the door had been forced open, and had I not seen the signs in the hallway, I would have walked straight in and been of no help to you.”

“But you did,” Tony said. “And you _were—”_

“I understand that, and yet I cannot stop thinking on what _might_ have happened,” Loki said, and– his voice actually cracked. “What _almost_ happened. Anthony… I can’t lose you. I _can’t.”_

And Tony felt his heart _break._

“I can’t lose you, either,” Tony whispered. “That’s why I _had_ to come. To warn you. Loki, it wasn’t even a choice for me.”

The sound that escaped Loki’s mouth was somewhere between a whine and a sob, and he pressed their foreheads together with the kind of pained whisper that had Tony holding him just as close. They clung to each other, there in that rotting room, the pair of them standing in a desperate embrace amidst the carnage of what had almost been their end.

They both knew there was a chance of this happening again. They both loved each other too much to be able to promise anything different. But just being in each other’s arms was enough to start to bring calm to their racing hearts and minds, and soothe the remaining distress.

The room was dark now, the only light that of the moon, shining silver through the broken window. It felt like a soothing presence compared to the harsh light of the sun before it, a complete reversal of previous alignments.

The shine of it over Loki’s pale skin made him look ethereal, just as much an impossible creature as those he had killed. But the anguish in his eyes was so very human. Loki tilted his head once more, his lips parted as if he were going to kiss Tony again– but their lips never met. Their eyes were locked, just… drinking in the other’s face, their expression, their eyes, every tiny minute detail that made up the image of the one they loved.

Assuring themselves that they were safe. That they _weren’t_ going to lose each other.

Not today.

But the shine of the moon and the deepening darkness was enough to remind Tony of exactly where they were. And after a few, long moments, he turned his head to press a kiss to the corner of Loki’s mouth before whispering out a few words with a sigh.

“We should go.”

“Back home?” Loki asked. While his voice was still a little rough, it was clear he was sincere– and that was something that warmed Tony all the way through.

Loki, as a Witcher, had always described Stygga Castle as– well, the closest thing he could have to a home, at least. But now, he meant…

As Tony thought about it, some of his joy melted away. Because—

“We can’t go back there, not for good,” he sighed. “Loki, they might not have said it outright, but they want you gone. And that this ploy didn’t work only means that they’re going to try again.”

Loki understood the implications immediately. “Anthony, you do not have to—”

“Of course I don’t have to leave my home,” Tony cut in, his lips turning up into a small smile. “And I won’t. Because Loki, that town is not it. Home… is wherever _you_ are.”

And this time, when Loki’s lips touched his? There was no desperation in the kiss at all.

**Author's Note:**

> You can find the art for this fic on tumblr [here.](https://rabentochter.tumblr.com/post/613249457969135616/preserving-hearts-with-quietlyapocalyptic-to)


End file.
